Hate & Desire
by Arya86
Summary: Draco and Harry only feel hate for the other... or there are more feelings hidden in them? Dominant Draco, weak Harry: Yaoi & Lemmon, and some violence!Review!


** Lemon!! Yaoi, slash. H/D!! If you don't like, don't read! And please forgive my mistakes, I'm not english! **  
  
He noticed the glance crossing him from the other side of the class, evaluating him, examining all the parts of his body. Draco knew who was he. The Slytherin smiled for himself, and made a captivating gesture to separate the blond hair from the forehead, like a casual gesture, although it went totally dedicated to the observer. He imagined the other boy biting his inferior lip, like he used to do when something bothered him. And there was no doubt that to feel that compelling attraction towards somebody like the blond boy bothered him. And more when they were enemies since the first day of class, if not since before. Draco knew that he had to be totally absent of the class, only thinking about him.  
  
He liked that. He liked to feel him wished in that way, and now he liked to be observed almost everywhere he went. He enjoyed that game of smalls signals directed to his personal spectator, seducing him at distance with each movement of his hair, each gesture of his hands and each position that he adopted.  
  
The only thing that perhaps bothered Draco was that the feeling was reciprocal. He couldn't avoid it. He controlled himself better, because he was who was, but he wished that boy as never before had wished nobody. All those games also increased his desire, the desire to do him that boy.  
  
The class seemed interminable. The monotonous voice of the teacher, some another murmur, the sound of the chalk in the blackboard. At last, the strident sound of the bell announced the end of the class, secunded by a relief sigh of the students.  
  
At last. All them rose quickly and gathered their things to leave the class as rapidly as possible. The boy tossed the head backwards to stretch the neck while he was waiting to go out of the class, leaving his blond hair fell softly, with the rucksack hanging indolently of a shoulder.  
  
By the corner of the eye, he saw that Harry was behind him. He already knew it. He felt his presence, his heat. He aspired deeply and thought that he almost could smell his characteristic essence. Draco savoured the air as if it was his skin, looking for that scent.  
  
He turned back and made his half - smile, arrogant, mocking, disdainful, that was plus a grimace that a true smile. but simultaneously it was a temptation, an invitation to the forbidden things, although this meaning only was directed to a person, and only this person would understand this.  
  
The black-hair boy didn't give back the smile to him. He simply watched him, serious, with those green and deep eyes. It was possible to think that there only was scorn and hate, but the blond had understood. For him, it was an answer to his invitation, a challenger to face him in that field that only they shared.  
  
"C'mon." seemed to say him without words "I will go for you. Will you dare? This time you will be mine. C'mon." All this in a single look. But it seemed to Draco that he was hearing his voice, whispering, between annoying and impatient, with rage and so overanxious.  
  
He answered in the same way, his smile disappearing, a duel of looks, words that never would be pronounced resonating in the air, dumb voices loaded of desire and seduction, hate and scorn. " I know that you'll come. You wish me. you wish to touch me, to entangle your hands in my hair, to feel my skin.I know that you wish it, and for that reason you will come. And that I'll return to win you. Again, like many others before. and like many others later."  
  
The voice would have sounded mocking, snores but mellow, winding like a snake. They stopped watched themselves as if nothing had happened and followed their way without look back. Separated. But each one yearning the other. The blond walked quick and surely. He knew where had to go. And he knew that there wouldn't be anybody, like always. And also knew that he'll come. He always did it.  
  
Draco didn't have to wait for too much. He only had lighted a small light, that involved the place in calm darknesses, when Harry arrived, like appearing of the anything. Like going out from the air.  
  
One in front of the other. Watching itself again. Feeling his own desire in his body, the one of the contrary in the air. They didn't wait too much. The door was closed and assured. The ideal atmosphere, in darknesses. Warm and recomfortable half-darkness.  
  
They approached simultaneously, until their lips were united, and their tongues were interlaced in a passionate dance, prelude of what will come later, without neither of both yielded or won in this kind of fight, until Draco separated abruptly with a deaf snarl, and turned around the other until being at his back, to be able to have him without the other could do nothing.  
  
The clothes disappeared quickly. They were too anxious, too much desire.  
  
The blond slid his hand by the back of the other boy. Smooth fingers, still cold, in the hot skin that yearned that contact. The panting breath in his ear, his neck. The rubbing of that silken hair with his body.  
  
The hands started to caress the Gryffindor's chest, surrounding his body. That soft, cold and ardent rub, the sharp nails sliding by his skin, teeth stroking his neck, thousands of sensations awaking in his body, electricity in each pore of his skin.  
  
Teeth that are stuck in, while his tongue strokes the neck, pleasure and pain, hate and desire, so deeply mixed that they aren't possible to be distinguished, so united them they form one.  
  
Rubbings that become abrupt, nails scratching, avid kisses. Skin to savour, to caress, to scratch. Skin to prove, to bite.  
  
The boy of black hair left his passive paper to turn himself and to kiss furiously the other boy, devouring him. A strong hand that is entangled in the blond hair and throws backwards, letting the neck and the chest free to bite them with rage, while the other hand crosses him all the body , stopping in the most sensible parts, making him crazy, desire, pain.  
  
Corresponded caresses, two bodies that fall in the bed, licking, devouring. everything mixed, everything becoming one, feelings, essences, skins, saliva, flavours.  
  
Pale body on the suntan back, winding tongue proving each centimetre of skin, preparing his rival in that peculiar fight to have him completely, to do him his, to unite theirs bodies reaching the sensations to the maximum.  
  
Tension in the Gryffindor, who couldn't move, desire to go away to avoid what inevitably was about to come. But the sensations were too much strong to separate of that body that was close with his, of that hoarse panting that heard while teeth bite their ear and fingers penetrated in their body. He couldn't impose his will to his body, although he repeated himself that he hated the Slytherin. He always returned to him, returned to look for him, and it returned to happen. and this time wasn't an exception  
  
There was no way to escape to those encounters, not when he wished it so much, not when the ardent and bitter kisses wee like a drug, not when he knew that he would have the possibility of bite that white skin and make it blush, that he could stick in his nails in the body of his blond demon and cross all his body.  
  
A hand was put to his reach and he turned the head and licked those fingers, he nibbled them, moaning, while he estimated with the hands backwards to touch that body that avoided him capably while it tortured him with the hands and the tongue.  
  
The hand was separated from his lips and put he facing the other boy. He wanted to watch his face while did him his. The both look the other. The blond smiled arrogant, and their grey eyes shone almost sadistically. The green eyes of the other boy also shone, but with wrath; he hated his body at those moments, when all it shouted his rival to continue, while simultaneously he disgusted to feel so dominated to him.  
  
The pale boy still made him wait, passing his hands through the chest, caressing the good formed pectorals and lowering by the perfect abdomen.  
  
Those desirable, almost obscene hands of long and soft, although manly fingers, held with force in his waist. The blond smiled, while the tanned boy tried to relax the body, waiting.Hate, as much hate. and as much desire, desire of impale himself in his opponent, giving himself completely, to flee and to remain there always.  
  
Finally a strong, abrupt, almost brutal movement. The hands taken hold with force in the waist, stick in the nails. The hands of the opposite holding the sheets, a shout, the pain and the pleasure again there, with more force because they had never disappeared.  
  
Rhythmic movements, hoarses panting, hands that stick in, nails and teeth. brutal, powerful attacks and each time faster.the pain. attenuated by the pleasure. or the other way.  
  
Hate in their looks, fury in the green eyes, triumph in the greys, bestiality and desire in both. They damaged the one to the other in that parody of love, in that enthusiastic fight of naked bodies.  
  
A current of electricity in both, the pleasure and the fury in their maximum expression. The hands of the black hair boy holding where they can, the bent and tense body the naked legs imprisoning the body of the blond, the mouth opened in a hoarse shout of frustration. and still more pleasure. the blond inside him, , also shouting although with the teeth tightened, the hands in the flanks of the other almost crossing the brown skin, the blond hair pasted to the sweaty forehead, the almost closed eyes at that moment where both bodies arrived to the maximum.  
  
Later, both lied down together, panting, one upon the other, recovering, the marks of the passion and the rage being visible by all their bodies soaked in sweat, scratches, bites, blows and even some drop of blood that left the worst scratches. Then they separated abruptly, stopped touch themselves, feel the heat of the other and they both look the other, and arrogant and disdainful smile, of triumph; a gathered frown with wrath and shining green eyes between humiliation and an admiration that could not hide.  
  
Without speak, without watching themselves more, they got dressed in silence, in the half-dark, pain in many zones of the body, feeling of emptiness and frustration, satisfaction and fatigue.  
  
They left the room without a gesture, without a mile, anything except a look.  
  
"I will return. And someday I'll win. And you will pay for all. I will make you supplicate."  
  
"You won't be able. You know that you won't be able. You wish too much be dominated, feel me inside you, that I possess and humiliation you. as every time. and you'll continue wishing me."  
  
Furious steps, that move away without watching back. the truth hurts. steps going to opposed directions , that are made weaker, until vanishing, while the dumb words still resonate in both minds, waking up again those contradictory feelings. hate. and desire.  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
Yey! I've finished my first english fic! Well, really I first wrote this fic in spanish and after I translated it.  
  
It's an strange harry/draco, isn't it? I wanted to write something like that. It's a little bit different of my way to write, but it dsn't matter.  
  
Ok, please forgive my mistakes! (and I know that there are a lot) And please please, revieeew!!! ^_^ 


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